


and this is not our fate

by openended



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Sacred Trees, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/pseuds/openended
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stopped calling her by her rank and last name a month ago when it became clear that they would be here for a while.  Not forever – never forever, the word is when, not if – but longer than they’d intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this is not our fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puffandruffle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffandruffle/gifts).



Exhausted, Sam makes her way down the narrow corridor back to their quarters. The room is tiny, barely large enough to hold a small bed and a set of drawers, but it’s theirs and theirs alone. She shuts the door behind her and the uproar that never seems to die down outside quiets; it isn’t completely silent, but it’s muffled. She inhales deeply, closes her eyes, and leans against the warped wood.

“Is everything alright, Samantha?”

She opens one eye and smiles. He stopped calling her by her rank and last name a month ago when it became clear that they would be here for a while. Not forever – never forever, the word is _when_ , not _if_ – but longer than they’d intended. They hadn’t intended to be here at all, actually; a stroke of idiotic luck caused a stray rock the villagers were throwing to land at just the right angle and shatter the center crystal of the DHD. The event horizon had destabilized right in front of her, Teal’c at her back but Colonel O’Neill and Daniel safe on the other side.

“Yes,” she says softly. They don’t speak loudly in their room, never much more than a whisper; their days are so full of noise and shouting that the quietude of their quarters is almost sacred. “Long day, that’s all.”

Teal’c nods and marks his place with a scrap of cloth before setting the book aside. It’s not terribly interesting, but it’s better than the one the stable master leant him last week: a taxonomy of local fish would likely not be intriguing to anyone, not even O’Neill. This book at least appears to have a plot. He politely closes his eyes while she sheds her clothing and dresses for bed.

The candle flame flickers as she moves about the small room, carefully folding her pants to set on top of the dresser, still clean enough for tomorrow though the shirt’s now stained beyond acceptability. She drops it in the basket by the door. There’s an entire staff to serve the servants and she’s thankful that she and Teal’c ranked high enough on first glance to be stuck with something other than laundry and bathroom duty. She isn’t thrilled about standing in a kitchen all day, especially one that hasn’t yet figured out electricity or a proper ventilation system, but it is better than the alternatives she was offered.

She coughs, signaling that she’s dressed again, and Teal’c opens his eyes. Sam still isn’t sure what inspired him to slide his arm around her shoulders and proclaim her his wife when the castle guards caught up with them, but it meant that they weren’t separated. Their faux marriage also earned them this room, as claustrophobic as it is, rather than a mattress in one of the dormitory-style rooms the other servants sleep in.

Teal’c folds down the blankets. They’re far away from the kitchens and the room grows colder every night. He hopes he will be granted a coat soon, as not even the mid-afternoon sun fully banishes the chill from the air in the stables.

“I have an idea,” Sam says, double-checking the meager lock on the door, “about the DHD.” She shivers, wishing that their room didn’t actually have a window. She could seal it properly if she had a spare hour and some tar, but she rarely has the former and the latter would raise suspicion.

“Will a diagram be necessary?” Teal’c asks, gesturing for her to get in first, closest to the wall. He’ll take the outside tonight.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She’s drawn them for him before, but she has a different plan this time.

Teal’c climbs in after her and blows out the candle, listening intently to her plan, committing every detail to memory. He’s mastered the art of slipping away from his work undetected, but he’s not willing to risk being gone for more than thirty minutes and it’s a ten-minute run to the Stargate; there is no room for error. He repeats the plan back to her, ensuring that he has everything correct.

At her smile, brilliant even in the dark, he draws the blankets up around them and settles his arms around her; he’s satisfied only when her small shivers cease. She tucks her head underneath his chin, her breath warm against his neck.

Sam closes her eyes and relaxes, the length of the day catching up with her. She scoots closer to Teal’c, more for companionship than warmth. The bed is small, but they fit. She doesn’t even mind the lumpy mattress, much.

“We will return,” he whispers.

She nods.

It’s a ritual, though an unspoken one. Every night, a reassurance that this is not permanent. That home is waiting.


End file.
